Pop Goes the Weasel

101

She wouldn’t look at him. However much he begged her to, she wouldn’t look at him. Her eyes stared resolutely at the window, seeing nothing. Tony Bridges walked round to the other side of the bed, but as he neared Nicola’s line of vision, she swivelled her glance the other way. As she did so, tears ran down her cheeks.

Tony was crying too. He had started to weep before he’d even finished his confession. An overwhelming sense of shame had crept up on him, making his mea culpa faltering and ragged. He had seen alarm in Nicola’s eyes at first – concern perhaps that a family member had died or he’d lost his job – but slowly her eyes had hardened and narrowed as the nature of his crime became clear. So they remained apart in the small room, more apart than they had ever been in their whole married life.

What could he say to her? How could he make things right? He had sought in the arms of another woman something that his wife would never be able to give him.

‘I know you probably hate me. And if you want me to leave, then I won’t fight you. But I want to be here. I’ve resigned from the Force, so I can start to repair the damage I’ve done, make some changes to my life, be the husband you deserve.’

Nicola stared resolutely at the open doorway.

‘I want to be how we were before. The early days when we never spent a night apart, lived in each other’s pockets. I… I made a big mistake and though I can never make up for it… I’d like it to be a new beginning for me. For us.’

Tony hung his head, once more ambushed by the possibility that Nicola would call time on their marriage and throw him out on the street. Why had he been so stupid? So selfish?

Still Nicola refused to react. In conversation, she would normally blink once for yes and twice for no, but so far her eyes had remained resolutely still. Her cheeks were wet, so Tony reached out to pat them dry with a tissue. Nicola closed her eyes and held them shut, refusing to look at him as he stroked her cheek.

‘Maybe you’ll never want me again, but I want to try. I really want to try. I’m not going to force it on you and if you want me to go and get your mother now, tell her what’s happened, then I will. But if you want me, then let me try to make things better. No more nights apart, no more snatched conversations. No more carers, no more strangers. Just you, me… and Charles Dickens.’

He walked round to the head of the bed and for the first time today she didn’t look away.

‘It’s up to you, love. I’m in your hands. Will you let me try?’

The silence in the room was all-consuming – all Tony could hear was his heart thumping. He felt like he was about to burst, but then Nicola’s eyelid finally moved.

It came down once and stayed shut.